


never look to see me fly

by pipedreams123



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Don't worry it's a temporary death, George is confused, but he loves his brother anyway, it's unavoidable, purebloods be purebloods, some OCs but, the Sorting Hat's a troll, warning:updated once a million
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipedreams123/pseuds/pipedreams123
Summary: (so I never have to lie)Or:Takeshi goes on an adventure.





	1. It's been a long one

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: It's been a long one
> 
> It's been a good one.

Yamamoto Takeshi for once didn't have a smile on his face.

Eyes grim and lips pursed in an unnaturally straight line, he clutched the handle of his sword, feeling fire thrum through his veins and give a wave of calm.

All his training with Squalo, his father, and Reborn-san was for this moment He hoped he wouldn't fail.

Beside him, Tsuna ( _his Sky, his friend, his anchor, his life_ ) nudged him with tendrils of his Sky flames, eyes still set dead ahead, causing the Rain to feel a new sense of purpose.

Hayato, who was on Tsuna's other side, also seemed to grow more confident. He bared his teeth, still visible despite the blood and dirt marring his face and staining his once silver hair. His clothes were ripped, but he still stood straight and tall, undaunted, taking courage from the similarly determined Sky next to him.

Takeshi drank in the feeling. They were the only ones there, all backup being busy with other fronts of the battle, spread across the world. Despite knowing this, Takeshi couldn't help but love the feeling of standing next to his two best friends, fighting fiercely for things they care for fiercely.

This is what he was meant to do. Fight for protection, with the war beat of a drum accenting his movements with the kind of senseless force needed to win. It wasn't clinical, it wasn't ruthless, it was filled with emotions and overflowing with love for his family.

Takeshi was riding on the battle high, that innate monster that used to scare him now being what made his blood sing, as he let his true cunning, his true self shine through.

The trio was suddenly split by an incoming wind attack, and immediately all the weariness and pain that had vanished with the Sky flames and romantic reminiscing came back tenfold.

Gritting his teeth, Takeshi shot up from his sprawled position on the ground, turning around just in time to bring his sword up to block against the flying debris. He slashed through a block of cement, and cast his eyes on the forms of Tsuna and Hayato fighting against the winds.

He had to get to them.

-{}-

Takeshi stared up at the sky, only faintly seeing the stretch of blue.

A blurred shape was just visible out of the corner of his eyes, swathed in orange flames and going at the remnants of the opposing famiglia with renewed intensity. A red flaming twin followed with bursts of smoke and flame, equally vigorous.

Takeshi realized his face was wet. Was it raining? He squinted at the sky, but saw nothing.

"I'll kill you!" A growl was spat out, and someone thudded to their knees on the ground next to him.

Takeshi flinched away. Or he tried to, as searing pain in his side kept him in place.

"It's just me, Takeshi," a voice he would know everywhere said reassuringly. The Rain smiled in reflex, ready to open his mouth and laugh.

Instead of the cheerful sound Takeshi meant, blood was spat out.

"O-Oi!" The nearby Hayato shouted out. "D-Don't try t-to talk, baseball freak!" He sounded oddly choked up.

A hitch in the breathing above him, and suddenly Tsuna was sobbing and sobbing.

Alarmed, Takeshi tried to reach out to his Sky, his flames doing the same. Tsuna stiffened at the feeling of rain flames and only cried harder.

"L-Look, you made J-Jyuudaime cry!"

Takeshi wanted to frown, but he had a feeling that would make things worse. His limbs felt leaden, and he was slowly starting to lose feeling in them. He felt his heart rate quicken.

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump-_

"Yamamoto?" a voice called, and the person in question tried his best to respond.

_Thumpthumpthump. Thump._

"Yamamoto, wake up."

_Thump. Thump._

"This isn't a game, idiot!"

_Thump._

"Takeshi! Open your eyes, please!"

_Thu-_


	2. Love for the great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And for the sorrowful

Takeshi opened his eyes to blinding white. He immediately shut them.

Hesitantly, he opened them again. The white slowly faded out and vaguely recognizable colors appeared.

There was a slash of red, most prominent among the washed out grays and blues and greens. Two reds, actually, both humongous and towering over him.

Sound came from the one on the left, babbling that rang his ears. The red on the right seemed to laugh, and Takeshi realized with a start that he could feel the vibrations. Was it...holding him?

Squirming about, Takeshi caught sight of a fist. It was small and pudgy, and Takeshi's first thought was that it was Reborn. His second thought was that Reborn was going to destroy the giant for holding him.

Then the fist moved when he attempted to reach for it.

Trying again, and again, Takeshi realized that the tiny fist was _his_. _The baby was him_.

He did what he usually did when confronted with something unexplainable and uncomfortable and horrifying—

The man and woman watched in wonder as their baby, who had been dead to the world since yesterday ( _b-but his brother woke up, why isn't he—!?_ ) curled his lips up into an imitation of a smile, letting laughter burble out.

-{}-

"Freddie!" George yelled, skidding to a stop in the doorway. "Come on then, it's time to go!"

"Coming, coming." Fred responded, shoving the last of the prank supplies— er, educational tools—into the trunk, all presents from George. Stamping a foot on the trunk lid to get it shut, he pulled it down the stairs, careful not to bump it too noisily or Mum would throw a fit.

"Fred! George!" said dear mother screeched. "Get down here!"

"Coming, mum!" the twins chorused in perfect sync despite being nowhere near each other. Once Fred got to the bottom floor, he shoved his trunk in the direction of his father, who was already swamped with shrinking all of Percy's and Charlie's stuff. Considering the studious nature of Fred's older siblings (though Charlie did have a mind of adventure), they were probably stuffed to the brim with books.

Fred joined his twin in speeding to the kitchen, catching their mother by surprise as they each grabbed a sandwich to stuff into their mouths.

"Fred!" she exclaimed when one of them accidentally knocked over a plate. She quickly caught it with a wave of her wand, simultaneously checking the temperature on the oven.

"He's not Fred, I am," George said instinctively.

"Sorry, George," their mother responded distractedly.

"Kidding," the twins chorused. They finished their food as Mrs. Weasley sighed in frustration. Their younger siblings sat at the table nearby, watching the chaos enviously.

"I wish I could go," their brother, Ron, whined. Fred— the real one— kneeled down in front of Ron.

"Don't worry." Fred gave a smile. "You'll get to go soon enough."

"Yeah, in a whole two years," Ron said mulishly.

"I wish I could stay." George commented, taking a cue from his twin. "Who wants to go to school?"

"And at least you two will have the whole house to yourself!" Fred added, winking at their younger sister, Ginny.

"I guess…" Ron mumbled, still unconvinced, while Ginny lit up nearby at the thought. Fred smiled. Their sister had a mischievous spirit.

"Come on, dears, it's off we go!" Their mother said, twirling her wand to cast a Feather-Light charm on her husbands load. "Fred, George, you first!"

Fred grabbed a handful of powder from the pewter vase nearby and stepped into the fireplace. "Diagon Alley!" he cried, always the first of the twins.

The flames never ceased to bring stinging tears of nostalgia to his eyes, and he wouldn't want George to worry, would he?


	3. Shark's teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let them bite

"Another Weasley, eh?"

Fred barely managed to keep himself from throwing the hat from atop his head.

"How many more of you are coming?" The voice continued, exasperated. "It's quite boring, you know, all you Gryffindors… except… that's odd."

Fred got over his shock ( _warning: mind invaded_ ) and joked with a smile as brittle as his control, "Well, I live to surprise. If I may, what's so odd?"

"You've got quite the mind there," the Hat murmured. "Very cunning, though I suppose you've had to be with your past."

Fred didn't like the insinuation, and prompted, "So what house?"

A light chuckle, and Fred shivered. It sounded almost ominous. "Oh let's shake things up a little, shall we?" Fred suddenly felt small, with the weight of the ceiling and the stares of students and the thin, worn-down brim of the hat. "SLYTHERIN!"

The sound of stilted and hesitant applause reached his ears, and with it a parting whisper from the hat, "This will be such fun…"

Fred carefully slid off the raggedy piece of cloth and, when McGonagall didn't automatically reach for it, settled it on the school.

He glanced around the still whispering hall, before trooping over to his table with a wide grin on his face. A glance at George showed freckles starkly contrasting with a pale face. Percy and Charlie were not much better, each stiff from shock. Percy was rubbing his glasses nervously.

Fred sat down at an empty space hastily created for him by his gaping housemates and kept an easy smile on his face. His ears were ringing and he felt slightly dazed, if not 'd had a vague premonition tapping the back of his brain into a hyper aware state since he first got on the train.

Up front, McGonagall finally regained her composure enough to call out "George Weasley!"

Fred's twin went up to the stage looking very much like he was being sentenced to execution, but when he sat down, quiet determination seeped into his expression.

Fred felt only mildly sorry for him, too preoccupied with the idea of being separated from his twin. That would cause a mutiny, one that Fred would be more than happy to lead.

George had his face screwed up in intense concentration, a familiar stubbornness scrunching up his brow. The last time Fred saw that, it had ended with Charlie howling with his hair on fire from a burst of accidental magic and the coveted broom firmly in George's hand.

Fred watched in anticipation as George seemed to come to a conclusion in his head and nodded unconsciously as if affirming his decision.

George abruptly stood up, whipped out his wand, and held it under the hat. The tip of his wand caught fire with a spell their mother had taught them for cooking.

Ignoring McGonagall's shocked "Mr Weasley!", George announced, "Put me in Slytherin, or the hat gets it." His face was dead serious despite the cliche language.

"Alright, alright!" The Hat shouted. "SLYTHERIN!"

George promptly put down the Hat, grinned at McGonagall, and practically vaulted over the tables to sit next to Fred.

"I got in," George smirked at his twin, mindless of the stilted silence around them.

"Hey, that was awesome!" Fred laughed, loudly and freely.

"I know," George said smugly. Fred felt a burst of pride and relief.

"Hey, Weasleys," a gruff voice called out to them. They looked up to see an older Slytherin eyeing them. "Don't cause trouble, got it?"

"Oh, we can't promise that." Fred laughed.

"Don't cause trouble for the house," the older boy amended.

"Oi, you're being to soft, Warrington," a girl scoffed. "Trouble will bring you our own form of retribution." She warned with a hard look in her eyes. "And retribution for us Slytherins is different than you are used to." Her words were ominous and accompanied with an eerily in sync smirk by five other Slytherins who were near enough to hear the words.

George kept a frozen smile while Fred just laughed. The smirks faltered.

"Great," a young first year with slicked black hair whispered to his mate. "We get the mental bloodtraitor."

Fred's smile grew sharper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I got bored.  
> Also, taking suggestions. This isn't restricted to being entirely linear, but I'll do my best to make it clear exactly when I'm talking about.


	4. Old Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake: Dedicated to Guest nat for being the first to review.  
> THIS IS ONLY AN OMAKE. I have no plans to develop this in the actual story, so…

“Mum!” George hollered. “We’re heading out!”

“Don’t lose your portkey!” their mum yelled back. “And do _not_ buy any prank supplies!”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve got it,” George rolled his eyes, exchanging a mischievous grin with Fred. They had finally managed to wrangle a trip to a nearby Muggle town with no supervision from their mother, and had every intention to milk the town dry.

Quickly running out the door before any of their siblings came downstairs, it was only a few minutes walk to get to the portkey point. Fred always went first (he insisted), so George waited a few seconds before following.

They arrived with barely a stumble, used to short-distance portkeys. The alley was mall and dimly lit, and sounds of hustle and bustle drifted in from beyond. Excited, George quickly stuffed his portkey necklace under his (Muggle!) shirt and left the alley, melding into the crowd.

Fred caught hold of his sleeve before George could completely disappear, and they made their way through the noon-time rush of the streets. It was a small suburb town, with few automobiles and rickety fences lining cobblestone streets. There was a line of shops against one side and open stalls down the other; a little farther down the road apartments towered in grey and white.

The twins made a beeline for a small building with a wooden sign saying ‘Ol’ Magic Shop’. Faded colorful paint peeled off in curling ribbons, and the windows held an inch thick of dust, but it held an air of mystique that appealed to an adventurer’s sense.

Rushing in, Fred slammed the door against the sun behind them and George stared in awe at the small gong that sounded as they entered. An old lady with hanging fake eyelashes was behind the counter. She looked dead, for all they knew, but George managed to tug Fred away from checking.

They wandered over to a small display of Muggle card tricks, watching in awe the black and white screen of a television as a magician performed in front of a camera.  
“We should get this for dad,” George muttered to Fred. Fred nodded, captivated by a ribbon-from-sleeve- trick.

They were just about to move to the next aisle when a glint of light caught Fred’s eye.

Curious, Fred looked closer at the shelf. Under what seemed to be a mountain of dirt, a blade peaked out.

Suddenly, Fred was overcome by a wave of sorrow and loss. In a fit of nostalgia, he dusted off the blade and held it up by the handle, which really was a wooden stick with loose leather wrappings. The familiar, if unbalanced, feel of a blade nearly set Fred laughing with glee. He allowed himself a grin. How long had it been since he last held a sword...

“What’s that, Fred?” George’s voice came from behind him, and immediately Fred came to reality. He put the blade down, ignoring how his blood stopped singing the second it left his hands.

“Just an old sword. It’s all dusty.” Wrinkling his nose, Fred turned towards his brother, ignoring the prickling in his spine. “We’ve spent a while here. We should probably go on.”  
Nodding reluctantly, George followed his brother out of the aisle. The old lady was gone from her counter, and in her place was a young boy, younger than them. He had wild black hair and a pair of glasses sliding down his nose. He seemed to be reading a magazine.

George put down a tarot card deck and a pair of Chinese handcuffs onto the wood counter. “How much?”

The boy looked up at them with honey orange eyes, and Fred froze. “T-Tsuna?” he choked out.

The boy startled. “Wha- who are you?” He looked terrified, eyes darting back and forth, and Fred knew.

“Tsuna,” his voice was gentler. “I know it’s you.”

The boy flinched, eyeing Fred warily, before his eyes flashed even brighter, and Fred felt a wave of _love_ and _acceptance_ and _hope_. “T-Takeshi?”

Fred nodded, relieved. “Though not right now.” He glanced at George, who looked ready to throw the cards at Tsuna.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” George demanded, glaring. “Fred, why do you know him?”

Fred laughed, a broken sound. “Don’t worry, he’s a friend.” Tears stung his eyes. He grinned at Tsuna. “Hi, Tsuna.”

Tsuna smiled, and a light shown in his eyes. “Hi, Takeshi. It’s been a while.”

Fred let out a laugh much clearer and lighter than before. “It has hasn’t it?”

“Fred.” George growled out, looking extremely confused.

Fred smiled at his twin, hoping to put George at ease. “George, this is Tsuna. Tsuna, this is George, my twin.”

“Hi George,” Tsuna said obligingly. George grudgingly nodded at the boy.

“Why are you here?” Fred asked curiously. The presence of George kept him from asking anymore.

Tsuna looked meaningfully over his shoulder, and shrugged. “My aunt left me here.” Dizzying hate erupted over their reforged bond, contrasting with the nonchalance of the words. George looked startled, so Fred wondered if he was also somehow connected to Tsuna.

“Oh.” Fred’s eyes narrowed, and then they creased into a smile. “Well, I guess you’re coming with us then.”

_“What.”_ Tsuna and George said in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I’ll write more to this...maybe later. For now, just imagine the chaos that results from Tsuna being introduced to the Weasley household. Sorry, kind of abrupt ending, I’ll probably change it later. This occurred before Hogwarts, though exact ages are shifty. Had some problems with formatting, so this was taken down and put back up a few times.


	5. These violent delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have violent ends

George stalked into the dorm room, scowling. His hair was plastered to his skull and covered in white pieces of egg shell. His robes were soaked through similarly, and he was nursing a bloody finger.

"What happened?" Fred stared, mouth agape. He was laying on the bed with a pack of cards.

"Some stupid fourth years decided to ambush me," George grumbled, plopping down on his bed. Luckily, their roommates were missing at the moment.

"What?" Fred sat up and frowned. "It's only the third day. And you're a first year."

" _I_ know that. _They_ apparently don't." George rolled his eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.

Fred sat back against the headboard of his bed, the first stirrings of anger hitting him. No one got to do that to his brother and get away with it.

-

Fred couldn't do anything violent, he knew. That kind of retribution was really only accepted in the mentality of the mafia. Tsuna, with his innate sense of kindness that never really went away even with the darkness of murder, was the only one to refrain from violence when slighted. He preferred to use politics. Even _Takeshi_ had stayed away from that area; he could handle basic meetings, but any long term planning he tended to revert to his 'fool' persona, something not really suitable for the cutthroat mafia.

For this prank, Fred decided to honor his former Sky by using humiliation. Especially to teenagers, embarrassment could prove practically fatal. Fred and George had made extensive use of it, especially with their siblings, though nothing overtly cruel. That one time with Ron and the spider was lesson enough to not.

It helped that there were already some ingrained ideals in the targets that made it easier to really hurt them. He had the perfect idea...

-

A week later, the Great Hall was bustling with the mayhem of dinner. It was the one time during the day that most of the school was together breakfast and lunch being disrupted by classes and sleeping schedules.

It started with something innocuous: hiccups. All three broke off from their conversation, slightly embarrassed, to grab a cup of juice. Fred smiled.

The first boy stood up, standing on his seat. "How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?" The boy's voice echoed through the hall, cracking intermittently, making everyone fall silent. He face slowly turned red, as he held a dramatic pose with a strained expression.

His friend, sitting a few seats away, stood up as well. "Where! I have learn'd me to repend my sin…Of disobedient opposition! Henceforth, I am ever ruled by you!" The friend blushed fiercely, realizing what he said.

The first boy responded, "I met the youthful lord at Lawrence's cell; And gave him what becomed love I might!" Giggles surged through the hall. The boy looked like he wanted to melt to the floor.

"Not step o'er the bounds of modesty!" The other girl joined in, clambering on to the table, sending dishes flying. Everyone laughed.

A wave of the wand, and suddenly the first boy was wearing a full Victorian dress. It was a beautiful work, if Fred could say so himself.

"O Romeo, Romeo!" The boy yelled at the ceiling. Various muggleborns grinned as they recognized the script. "Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny the father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love!" He turned towards the other boy, who was suddenly adorned with red plumage and puffy sleeves.

The puffy sleeved boy turned to the Hall. "Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?" A roar met him, and he nodded decisively.

"Take all myself!" The boy in a dress and the girl cried in unison. The girl sprouted a matching dress in complementary colors. The Hall practically exploded in laughter.

The red plumaged boy said, solemnly, "I take thee at thyself."

All three sat down, the girl missing her seat and plopping down on the floor. The Great Hall erupted into applause.

The three came out of the spell (an advanced puppet spell combined with a controlled Babbling charm) with anger and humiliation warring across their faces. Their clothes didn't disappear with the spell. The Hall was still roaring with laughter and many insults were being thrown across to the Slytherins.

Fred didn't feel guilty, even as they fled from the Hall, one boy hiding obvious tears.

George turned to look at Fred with a huge smile on his face. "That was utterly brilliant!"

"I try." Fred grinned back. "Just wait until they try to take the clothes off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Shakespeare.  
> This is a little shorter than I wanted.
> 
> /What's in thy name? That which we call a rose  
> By any other name would smell as sweet/


	6. It's nice to be important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But more important to be nice.

Fred looked around warily, tension almost vibrating out of him. George inched closer to him, hand twitching towards his wand, hidden up his sleeve.

The boy in front of them was barring the doorway to the dorm. He was the first year with slicked black hair. Behind him, a platinum blond watched from his bed with minimal interest.

"Let us through?" Fred tried again with a strained smile. He was tired. They had been dealing with concealed insults and slights all through dinner.

The black haired boy looked at him incredulously. "You're bloodtraitors." He gave them a sneer, and unseen, George rolled his eyes. "You aren't sleeping in here. Your filth could rub off."

"Well, where do you expect us to sleep, then?" George said, exasperated.

The boy shrugged. "Not my problem. On the floor in the common room, maybe." His smile was malicious. The common room, while elaborately decorated and cushioned with the finest quality cushions, was cool already due to it being under the lake, and likely to be downright freezing in midnight.

A loud sigh came from the dorm. "For Merlin' s sake, just let them in, Faber." The blonde haired boy sat up on his elbows. "It's too late to cause this much trouble."

Faber scowled at the boy, but acquiesced surprisingly quickly. "Didn't know you were a Muggle sympathizer, Blaise."

"Oh, sod off. No one needs your blabber on the first night." Blaise rolled his eyes. Faber stomped off to his bed, but didn't seem to angry, just resigned. Blaise turned to the amused twins.

"Cyrus Blaise. And that's Byoros Faber. Pleased to meet you." With that, he turned back to his book.

The twins exchanged glances. "Fred Weasley," Fred said.

"George."

Blaise looked at the two with scrutinizing eyes. "Weasley One," he dubbed, pointing at Fred, "And Weasley Two."

"Or you could just call us by our first names?" Fred suggested, glancing at George who seemed slightly upset he wasn't Weasley One.

Blaise didn't say anything in response, choosing to continue to peruse his book. Fred and George exchanged glances again, and quickly went to their beds. It was covered with a green spread, and the hangings around the bed were emerald, too. There were ornate silver decorations at the front that glinted in the rising moon. Their trunks lay at the base, but had a silver loop threading through the lock hole.

"What are these?" Fred murmured to George, gesturing to the loop. Looking at it closer, he could see that odd shapes and writings were inscribed on the outside.

Blaise somehow heard him, and replied, "They're complimentary wards for your belongings."

"Wards?' George asked. "Protective ones?"

Blaise nodded. "They provide them for first and second years, but from then on you're expected to protect it yourself. You may want to consider upgrading them anyway, though. The wards are mass produced, and haven't been updated to match current understanding of runes since the 1700s." A look of distaste accompanied his words, before he turned to his book once again. Fred silently promised himself to do some research on wards.

"Why are you talking so much to them?" Faber muttered from where he was trying to look disinterested, He was ignored.

"So are you adept in Runes?" George asked curiously, obviously fishing for information. Fred made a note to teach him in that vein.

"I know the basics." Blaise shrugged.

Faber snorted. "His mother is a Runescript Master. He knows more than the _basics_."

Blaise eyed Faber disapprovingly, but continued. "Anyways, I can lend you a book to get started on."

"Thanks." Fred and George said in unison (with no small amount of suspicion; they weren't _stupid_ ), nodding to Blaise. They sat next to each other on the bed and looked around the dorm.

It was shaded and quiet. There were some thumps coming from the room next door, but they disappeared quickly. The enchanted moon shone brightly through a window, casting odd shadows that shifted and twisted away from direct sight. Fred quickly looked away from the silver light. It reminded him too much of an old friend.

The atmosphere was cold and unsafe at the moment, despite the reprieve brought by Blaise, but Fred had some sudden intuition that would change with time. George seemed to be coming to his own conclusions, with how he was still looking around with an odd expression.

Fred though, he could see them living in the dorm. It couldn't be worse than the bunkers during the Millefiore war, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short, but I figure I owe you something after nearly a...month? Maybe less.  
> This happens right after the welcome feast.  
> I have next to nothing planned for the next one, except perhaps some Lee Jordan. I'm still taking prompts.  
> Love all you who were thoughtful enough to send a review or a kudos!


End file.
